What is Endurance?

Well, I rode the 6 hour solo option in Florida, instead of endangering the lives of hundreds of other riders, and I am content. I'm sure I could have done the 12 hours, but the course was a little more technical than one would have thought. This being my first race and only my second nocturnal off-road experience, I thought it best not to flirt with the cliff-hanging, knee-bashing stuff the Santos course offered at the beginning and end of each lap. Part of it looks to have been an old limestone quarry, which lended to some pretty difficult passages. Dave overcame massive mechanical miasmas and placed fourth out of 50 12-hour soloists. I did better than half of the 75 6-hour riders, but not quite as well as the top 29.
For images, check out: http://www.eventpictures.com/app/event/viewEvent?eventInstanceId=13629&cobrandDomain=floridaactionsports
Dave was #9 and I was #418.

The event was truly a sensory smorgasbord, and I am left with the following observations, among others.

-Too many Americans own dogs. Very few of them know what dogs need to thrive and be happy (it ain't that difficult, people...run, eat, play, sleep...kind of like what you need to thrive and be happy). The event in Florida was attended by some 200-300 people, I think, and there seemed to be dogs in every direction. A good example of how stressful the event was, from a canine perspective, was the poor fellow a few tents up from ours that barked (no lie) from around 10am, when the race started, until 10pm when the race was over. Needless to say, he was scolded quite violently by his owner, who probably never has the time to run his dog because he is so busy running himself.
-Florida is just as kooky as I remember it. From the jacked-up, 4x4 bus in the mud pit off of 301 to the gigantic skate park in the middle of nowhere to the fire and brimstone AM radio over the speakers in the restaurant on Sunday morning to the accents from everywhere other than Florida; this state is truly a gem among our great southern states (see: Vernon, Florida by Errol Morris).
-Sporting events are one of our only remaining collective consumptive catharses. It is here that we throw recyclable materials in with the garbage. It is here that we toss used tubes, empty, metal gel packages, and other refuse onto the side of the trail, in spite of requests for the contrary from the race promoter. It is here that our dogs' feces fall where they may and remain to contaminate surface waters for the local wildlife. And, it is here that we run generators and vehicles through the night, polluting the local air with fumes and noise. This list could be extended or contracted, depending on the sport/event, but I think the point is made. This will improve, however, as some promoters are putting up recycling stations, and there are ways to reuse nearly everything. I would think if any group were capable of generating some good reuse ideas, it would be one containing a bunch of bicycle mechanics. There are already some cool operations out there doing candle-holders, lamps, bottle openers, and tons of other stuff with old bicycle "waste." Come up with some of your own.
-What is endurance? I do not wish to denigrate those that win such events as the one in which I just participated, but to praise those that do such things with a minimum of investment in technology, be it nutritional or otherwise, and the employment of skill and mechanical ability under duress. A great example is the vegan guy, Rob, who was set up in the tent next to ours, who relied on real food to get him through and into the top three. Another example was the guy that had regular, old, non-LED flashlights fastened to his handlebar with bungee cords, while others had lights that blinded all wildlife within a half-mile radius. Finally, there was Dave, who had a tire blow off his wheel in the first lap, but managed to come out near the top of the heap, regardless of replacing that wheel with a spare that didn't line up with his brake calipers (leading him to adjust the calipers, only to discover that his rotor was bent on that wheel, which meant going back to the other wheel after a couple more laps and readjusting the calipers). Winning is nice, but if it only happens because you had tons of money to buy the best of the best equipment, or because of drugs you took that suppressed the pain, or because you ate things that were engineered to jack up your system, or because you had the benefit of a dedicated mechanic and several replacement bicycles, then I imagine it doesn't mean as much as it could.
Thanks, Dave, for the motivation and inspiration.